But To Dream
by Adriana Morgan
Summary: Jumin mourns his wife on the anniversary of her death.


**But To Dream**

A/N: Writing this literally killed me; I am dead. Have you ever heard a song and a story was just instantly there in your head? This story happened when I heard Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day. I cried writing this from beginning to end. Please don't hate me for torturing poor Jumin. He loved MC so much and that is why he is in such agony. To make it up to him, I am currently writing the smutiest smut that ever smutted just for him.

* * *

Jumin stood staring at the elaborate marble headstone, unconscious of the rain that poured down on his head, plastering the raven-colored locks to his scalp. His fingers tightened around the stems of the flowers he held, his tears mixing with the raindrops on his cheeks.

Five years; five years without her. Five years of not waking up to her smiling face, not hearing her laughter, missing the feel of her arms around him as he drifted off to sleep. For months after the accident he came daily, sitting on the plush lawn talking to her; making sure the flowers he placed for her were fresh and that weeds did not obscure the beauty of her final resting place. Now he tries to make it out weekly but usually it is monthly. He was just here last week but he would not miss today. Today was the anniversary of her death and though he knew he needed to move on, he could not.

How does someone move on from the love of their life; from the only person who had ever been able to melt the ice around your heart? He didn't know the answer and he was tired of trying. His fingers traced the shape of her name, his heart aching with longing.

He blamed himself; of course he did. As hard as he tried to protect her from any danger, he could not protect her from what he could not control. His fault was in granting her every wish. When she asked for a car because she was not comfortable being driven around he had relented, hating himself now for basking in the thanks she showered him with.

It happened the night before their last RFA party. She had been on her way to the venue to go over the final guest list with Assistant Kang when the other driver blew through a red light, ramming straight into the side of her car. She was pronounced dead on the scene; he never even had the opportunity to say goodbye.

His father suggested he return to the company and he agreed. Losing himself in his work was preferable to sitting in their home, her presence all around him. Now he stayed at the office as long as he could, sometimes even collapsing on the couch in his office. He developed the habit of keeping a fresh suit hanging on the back of his office door for those nights he couldn't make himself return to the penthouse.

He quit the RFA, unable to cope with the memories it kept fresh in his mind. It was too difficult to log into the messenger, expecting to see the beaming smile of his wife in her profile picture. Saeyoung refused to remove it and Jumin was silently grateful. Before he left conversations had revolved around MC and the fond memories the members had of her. Many nights he fell asleep, his tears dampening his pillow as he read conversations recalling her kindness and sarcastic humor. He had lost touch with most of them since he left, avoiding their calls; hiding from their concerned voices and sad eyes. The only person he still talked to on a regular basis was Assistant Kang and he would be forever grateful that she seemed to sense his pain and keep her references to his late wife to a minimum.

The rain ceased hitting his head and he heard it patter quietly onto the umbrella that was being held over his head. He glanced up to see who the owner of the arm that held it and found that he was not surprised to see Saeyoung. The younger man's red hair was cut short, his now black framed glasses spotted with raindrops. His amber gaze was focused on the memorial stone and Jumin studied his profile, again unsurprised to see that his old friend was crying silently, his shoulders occasionally shaking with his sobs.

"It's been a long time," Saeyoung finally said, wiping the tears from his face. It had stopped raining as they stood in silence and the ex-hacker closed the umbrella, resting it on the ground, seeming to lean on it for support.

"Yes," Jumin answered, placing the bouquet of flowers carefully in the vase that was attached to the stone.

"How have you been?" The question lingered in the damp air as Jumin straightened, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I miss her," he replied, memories flashing through his mind one after the other. They all converged to create a movie in his head of his beautiful wife. Laughing; always she was laughing, finding the bright side of any situation. She helped him discover how to love and now he wished more than anything he couldn't; it hurt too much.

Saeyoung let out a shuddering breath. "Me too," he whispered, his knuckles white around the umbrella's handle.

"You loved her," it wasn't a question. Jumin had always known that the developer of their app had feelings for his lover. He didn't know if MC ever knew but he doubted it. If she had even suspected she would not have spent as much time with Saeyoung; she would have never led him on. "It must have been difficult to see her with me."

"You made her happy; that's all I ever wanted for her. Besides, she never saw me as more than a friend. Her heart belonged to you."

"And mine to her," Jumin said quietly the tears he had managed to stop now once again streaking his cheeks. "It always will."

Saeyoung cleared his throat and squeezed the taller man's shoulder once before dropping his hand back to his side. "We've been discussing the possibility of holding parties again. It came to mean a lot to MC and we'd like to honor her memory. Would you consider coming back?"

"I-I...can't," Jumin managed to say before the lump in his throat was too large to speak. Despite his inability to be involved, he knew MC would have been pleased. Somehow after V left the organization she had become the de facto leader, taking over most of the planning responsibilities. It became an even that she planned a year in advance and the parties had become so large that they were more like events than the small gatherings they had started out as.

From the corner of his eye he saw Saeyoung nod in understanding. "If you change your mind let me know. We're all still pretty active on the messenger although it's mainly just to keep in touch. Jaehee even logs on every once in a while. I know the others would be glad to hear from you."

Jumin didn't answer, memories of MC at previous parties invading his thoughts. He remembered watching her weave her way through the crowd that grew larger as the years went by; greeting guests, making sure everyone had what they needed, convincing them to reach into their pockets to provide huge donations. It was a task she had fallen into easily and by the end of her short reign she had perfected it.

"I'm going to leave you to mourn in peace," Saeyoung's voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him from the image of MC on their honeymoon, head thrown back in ecstasy as he moved over her. "I'm sorry I intruded. I'm not able to get out here much but I didn't want to miss today."

"I understand," Jumin painfully drew a breath. "It was good to see you, Saeyoung. Thank you for thinking of her."

Saeyoung gave a sad smile and clapped Jumin on the back. "I never stop."

The grieving husband watched his old friend's back as he made his way towards the black sports car parked on the cemetery's winding road. He couldn't help the stab of pity he felt for the other man. Standing back and loving MC from a distance, watching her find happiness with another man; none of it could have been easy.

Returning his attention to the front, sat in the wet grass, wrists resting loosely on his bent knees; ignoring the fact that he was ruining his expensive suit.

"Hello, my love," he begins then pauses, taking a deep breath and releasing it shakily. "I hope you will forgive me for waiting so long to visit. I still think of you every second of every day but I can't seem to make myself drive out here. I've been trying to forget you, as I know you would want but it is an impossibility. I realize you would not want me to live out my days alone but, my dear, I'm afraid that is one wish I cannot fulfill. Your face is on every woman I see, your voice the only one I can hear. No, you were it for me. Father does not understand," he lets out a bitter laugh, "he believes all I need do is bed another woman then I can easily move on."

Jumin buries his face in his hands, sobs racking his slender frame. "It's not fair. I realize I sound like a child but it is not fair that I had such a short amount of time with you. It took me so long to find you; so long to realize that loving someone is the most wonderful feeling in the world. What am I supposed to do now? You are not here for me to love and I cannot love another. I sometimes wish we had created a child; a child with my raven hair and your chocolate eyes. A tangible piece of the love we shared."

Unable to go on, he sobbed; forehead on his knees, hands clutching the back of his head. He sat this way for a few minutes until he felt the heat of the sun warming his back. Raising his head he saw the clouds had finally cleared. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and he could have sworn he heard his name whispered on the wind.

"MC," he breathed, suddenly smelling her light perfume. He knew it was impossible but he could feel her presence beside him, her fingers ghosting over the line of his jaw.

"I'm here, Jumin," he heard as the barest of a whisper. "I love you. Stop shutting your friends out, lean on them, let them help you heal. Please, Jumin, for the love you bear me. Don't just waste away waiting for the day we reunite. Live your life; love, laugh, don't rebuild that wall you tore down for me. Remember, when it's all done, I'll be here; waiting to spend eternity loving you."'

Jumin awoke with a start, curled up on the wet grass; apparently he had fallen asleep, his grief exhausting him. He sat up slowly, eyes surveying the empty cemetery. _A dream,_ he thought sadly. _Merely a dream of desperate man._ But if it were a dream, why could he still smell the soft floral scent of his wife's perfume? Jumin Han was a man who dealt in absolutes, he believed in what he could see and touch; but at that moment he completely believed his wife had been with him, whispering into his ear, lulling him into a sleep that he so desperately needed.

With a renewed sense of purpose he picked himself up off the ground, retrieving his smartphone from his breast pocket and for the first time in four and a half years logged into the RFA messenger.

* * *

Here comes the rain again  
Falling from the stars  
Drenched in my pain again  
Becoming who we are


End file.
